Kitchen Capers
by Candyland
Summary: One day, Flora announced that she was going to cook dinner. Look, a part two! She's trying again, and Luke is brave enough to give it a taste.
1. Kitchen Capers

**AN:** I do love this game. I love it so…anyway, hope you enjoy! I do not own Professor Layton or any of the characters I'm borrowing to play with for the sake of this story.

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**Kitchen Capers**

When Flora announced one day that she was going to prepare dinner for the three of them that night, Luke had fought to keep his expression neutral. Did Flora even know how to cook?

Layton, however, seemed unfazed by the sudden proclamation. He chuckled and granted her full access to the kitchen. She clapped her hands in delight and hurried to the aforementioned kitchen, completely set on beginning her self-appointed task.

"Professor?" Luke asked hesitantly as the sound of cupboards opening and closing reached their ears—which meant that she was out of earshot. "Does she know how to cook?"

"I don't know," Layton replied easily, wincing slightly at a loud metallic crash from the kitchen. "But surely there's no harm in letting her try."

Somehow, Luke was not appeased. He didn't think Flora's upbringing as the daughter of a wealthy baron would have afforded her much experience in a kitchen—they would have probably had cooks to prepare the meals. Now, he was nowhere near the professor's level of reasoning, but to his mind this all added up to a recipe for disaster.

Then again, maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad…

_SEVERAL HOURS LATER…_

…then again, it WAS that bad.

Three and a half hours, several false alarms, two ruined pans, and no less than two visits from the fire department after Flora's announcement, they sat down to dinner. None of them really wanted to think about the mess in the kitchen. Luke had glanced in as he passed, and wondered if even his teacher could reason out exactly how the pasta had gotten stuck to the light fixture.

The three of them stared at their dinner.

Luke privately thought that his dinner was staring back.

And he really hoped that it was his imagination that it was moving.

He glanced at his mentor nervously, and found that even Layton's smile seemed a tiny bit strained, an unusual expression for one who prided himself on being a gentleman. But he was smiling nonetheless, and said, "This looks very nice, Flora."

The girl had looked nervous, but his words seemed to reassure her.

But now came the moment of truth. They actually had to…eat it. Sitting and staring at it, and talking about the so-called meal in front of them was one thing. Taking a bite of it was a whole 'nother enchilada. Pun intended.

Mentor and student both steeled themselves mentally, lifted their forks, and took that fateful bite. Flora watched expectantly.

Luke turned fluorescent green.

Layton's top-hat exploded off his head.

And both went completely rigid and toppled over sideways.

**_-o-_**

When Luke opened his eyes, he was in a hospital room. Flora was in a chair next to his bed, weeping. Her expression brightened marginally when she saw that his eyes were open. "Oh! You're awake!" she said, rising. "I'll get the doctor."

A few minutes later, a smiling man in a white coat appeared at Luke's bedside. "Good morning," he said pleasantly. "How are you feeling, son?"

It was then that Luke realized that he felt awful, and said as much.

The doctor nodded. "Not too surprising, son. They brought you in with acute food poisoning." In the background, Flora sobbed. "You're going to be quite miserable for a few days, but you'll get better. And you're far better off than your respected teacher." Obviously, the doctor was aware of Layton's well-earned reputation.

That got Luke's attention. "What happened to the professor?" he croaked.

"He had an adverse reaction to something in that meal," the doctor repiled. "At the moment, he's convinced he's a pencil."

As if on cue, an ear-piercing shriek echoed through the hospital. Luke's eyes widened. "What that…?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"One of the monitors in his room makes a whirring noise."

"…and?"

"It sounds like a pencil sharpener."

"Ah."

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**PS.** _Written as a gift for my darling rabu-rabu, **Mata**, who asked for a fic about Flora's cooking skills or lack thereof. I WUB YOU! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

**AN: **I decided to just put this one here as a second part because it's a quasi-follow-up. Might as well keep them together, ne? Now, behold as I quietly indulge in my little ship. I don't own Professor Layton!

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**Practice Makes Perfect**

"Luke?"

At the sound of his name, Luke jumped slightly and glanced up from his book towards the door. "Oh, Flora," he said. "I didn't hear you come in."

She crossed the room, holding a covered plate in her hands. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Luke couldn't help but privately think that Flora never bothered him. She had always been a very sweet girl, and time had certain been kind to her as the awkwardness of adolescence had melted into the first lovely bloom of adulthood.

Granted, the same could more or less be said for Luke himself—he certainly wasn't the same excitable child he had been when he had first met her at the top of the mysterious tower in St. Mystere. They had both grown up over the past few years.

He didn't say all of that aloud, though. Instead, he just replied with, "Not at all!" He did spare a moment to mentally kick himself—whenever he talked to her, his mind seemed to go void of all intelligent thought, leaving only inane pleasantries, random comments, and small talk about the weather or the professor's latest puzzle. It was embarrassing, to say nothing of frustrating. "What can I do for you?"

Flora shifted nervously, then lowered the plate to the table beside him. "I was wondering if you would be willing to do me a favor…and try this?" She lifted the cover from the plate, revealing several small pastries. "I…I just made them."

Luke couldn't keep himself from hesitating. The last time he had been subjected to eating Flora's culinary masterpieces, both he and the professor had wound up in the hospital. It had been weeks before Luke's skin had returned to its normal color, and Professor Layton still twitched at the sound of pencil sharpeners. Flora hadn't cooked for them since.

But…that had been quite a long time ago. And the pastries did look quite good. Besides, the professor was an adamant advocate of being a gentleman where the young woman—or any woman, really—was concerned. And Flora seemed so earnest about it, standing there and flushing prettily, wringing her hands as she waited for his answer.

…surely one bite wouldn't hurt, would it?

"All right," he said with a nod. "I'll try."

Flora's face lit up. "Really?"

"Yes," Luke smiled, mentally steeling himself. He picked one of the delicacies up and hesitated for a mere second before he popped it into his mouth and started to chew.

The taste rolled slowly over his tongue—the pastry itself was flaky, and the filling was primarily lemon, with honey and nutmeg and just a tiny hint of powdered sugar. He chewed for a moment before he swallowed, letting the last of the sweet-sour taste linger for a moment.

When he glanced back up, Flora was watching him closely; her eyes shone with hope, probably because he hadn't immediately fallen over and didn't seem to be growing ill. "Well?"

"It's…it's wonderful," he breathed without really thinking about it; he felt his face redden as he looked at her. Wow, she sure was pretty when she flushed like that.

"I've been practicing," Flora smiled shyly.

At a loss for what else to do or say, Luke smiled. "Can I have another one?"

Her smile widened. "Please do. I…I made them especially for you."

As he happily popped another of the tiny lemon pastries into his mouth, Luke couldn't help but feel like the most awkward person in the world. But maybe it wasn't so bad.

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**PS.** _…plot? What plot? You were expecting a plot? We don't need no stinkin' plot! And yes, guilty ship here XD THE TRUTH COMES OUT! Thanks for reading, all! Much love!_


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